


Otaktay: Vampires in London: The Return

by Madam_Fandom



Series: Vampires In London [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dark Magic, Dream Sex, Dreams, Interlude, Meditating, Multi, Native American Character(s), Nightmares, Nudity, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other, Wet Dream, dream walking, mention of Moriarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Fandom/pseuds/Madam_Fandom
Summary: Written in the same verse as Vampires in London: The Return, a type of interlude giving insight into Otaktay's struggle, and an introduction for Ms. Samantha St. James.Comes before the first chapter of V.I.L: The Return. I plan on doing one for several of the characters.





	Otaktay: Vampires in London: The Return

Otaktay’s body burned white hot, sweat rolled down his body in small rivers. He had been having trouble sleeping since they had defeated Moriarty. To be honest he had been having trouble with a lot of things. The only thing he didn’t seem to be having trouble with was his sex drive. He felt like he was in a constant state of arousal. He knew he needed to give his body time to heal. And he was sure the reason his libido was so out of control was because Moriarty had been near driven insane with his desire for Sherlock. He’d wanted John as well, just once to say he’d had him and to cause Sherlock pain. Sherlock’s power gain had turned Moriarty on. He was an evil fiend who thrived off of discord and violence and he had wanted nothing more than to win Sherlock back to his side.

Sherlock’s power gain had turned Moriarty on in ways Otaktay didn't understand, he knew power could be sexy, he understood that, but that wasn't what did it for Moriarty. He was an evil fiend who thrived off of discord and violence and he had wanted nothing more than to win Sherlock back to his side, to try and persuade him to join up forces against the council and everything good.

Sherlock’s refusal had both excited the predator in Moriarty and angered him; which Otaktay imagined that this explained his own sudden outtakes of anger. Often unprovoked.

 

Overall in the past month, Otaktay’s health and wellbeing _had_ improved, but he had a long way to go to get back to right. He was currently seated cross-legged in a clay hut he had built with his own hands many, many years ago. A fire was going and he was completely naked, he'd hoped to sweat some of the affliction from his body, it made him feel like a stranger inside his own mind.

 

 

Otaktay felt the sweat pouring off him in waves, but it didn’t seem to be helping. He could still feel the darkness in him, both from Moriarty himself and the dark magic from the far that he had took into himself. Otaktay needed to meditate, to help guide and speed up his healing.

Otaktay slowly exhaled, pushing the breath from his body until he felt he could push no more. He imagined each exhalation took malignant cells from his body. And with each inhalation he imagined a crisp breeze supplied by the North Wind entering his body, cleansing it, shaking loose any dark and evil cobwebs.

 

His body relaxed, loosened, falling into a deeper meditation, a type of dream state. First, all he saw was the universe as it had been over the span of existence. After a time his mind wandered into forbidden territory as it often did and he was helpless to stop it.

_Otaktay was thrusting into John, the shorter man crying out in a mixture of pain in pleasure, staring up at Otaktay with desire and complete trust. And just as Otaktay was about to release his seed he slashed John Watson’s throat. The sight of the violence had him tossing his head back in ecstasy, pushing him over the edge._

Otaktay’s mind rebelled against the images, whimpering and striving to fight off the heat of a different nature. The damaged part of his mind continued on, _showing a gleeful Sherlock crouched naked over John’s lifeless body, greedily lapping up the spilled blood. Otaktay watched as Sherlock drank his fill; when done he had blood running down his chin and onto his chest. His eyes glowed with a pale inner fire as he raked Otaktay with a predatory look. Sherlock attacked Otaktay, pushing him on his back roughly and impaling himself on his still engorged cock._ In his dreams and hijacked meditations he never ceased being hard, his body insatiable. _Otaktay watched Sherlock ride him through a haze of lust, hands gripped at Sherlock’s hips as he worked himself on Otaktay, hips moving frantically, blood stained neck straining, arched beautifully._

Otaktay could feel the dream him desire to lick the blood off of Sherlock and then bite him, drinking him down until he had barely a shred of life left in him. It was horrible moments like this that Otaktay was able to discern himself from the whatever ill-mannered illness Moriarty had left in him. He would never want to harm John, or drink Sherlock’s blood. Bloodlust wasn’t him. With Moriarty gone sometimes Otaktay got confused if his thoughts and dreams were truly his own or leftover from the insane vampire.

Otaktay knew what came next, he’d had this meditation dream before. He fought to rouse himself before the dream played out in its entirety. Just as he thought he would break out of the dream, the dream Otaktay struck.  _Otaktay thrust his hand through Sherlock's chest and yanked out his heart just as Sherlock was crying out in the heat of his orgasm. Otaktay_ _bit into the heart, blood splattering and dripping down his chin as he drank deeply._

Normally the dream ended there but tonight it shifted into what looked like a farm. Otaktay felt the gravel dirt beneath his bare feet, the cool breeze against his skin. This felt real and different from just moments before. This felt like he had woken up and teleported to a new location.

_Belatedly he heard a horse neighing closely and a woman’s voice trying to soothe the spooked animal. Once the animal had calmed the woman looked over to him and although her cheeks turned scarlet she took him in from the bottoms of his bare feet to the top of his head._

_“Well, I reckon this ain’t something ya see_ _ev'ryday, a naked Indian just appearing outta thin air.” She drawled in an accent so thick and reminiscent of places in the South or Midwest; Otaktay wondered where he was. The woman approached hesitantly hands out in front_ _of her as if she was trying not to spook him. Otaktay watched her closely wondering why he brought here. When the woman was close enough to touch she reached a hand out reaching for his arm, her hand passed right through him. She yelped and jumped back. “Good Lord! You’re a ghost.”_

_The woman backed away slowly until she bumped into her horse, quickly she turned mounted the horse and sped off away from Otaktay._

 

Otaktay was yanked harshly from his meditative state. Who was this woman? And how the hell had she called him to her? That had to be what happened, even if she acted as if she had no clue who or what he was.

 

A week and a half had passed and every night rather Otaktay mediated or not the moment he closed his eyes he was back on that ranch with this woman. They hadn’t been able to speak or hear one another. When he was in her presence, term used loosely, he could get no impressions or gather any info from her except the distinct impression that she may be a judge like John.

Otaktay had been using his waking hours traveling to different ranches, he needed to find this woman, the compulsion to do so was so strong he almost didn’t trust it. By the end of the week he had found her. She hadn’t really been that far away, to be honest, Otaktay lived in Minnesota and he found the woman in Iowa.

When he appeared before her and she didn’t react he knew the other times had been real, he hadn't been sure. The woman waved, no doubt used to not being able to verbally communicate with him.

“Hello.” he said simply as he appeared before her. The woman startled and then smiled. She punched him in the arm, “Get out!”

This seemed like a reflective action and the manner of which she said, _get_ _out_ made Otaktay believe she didn’t really mean _get out._

“By God, you’re real this time. Who in Sam Hill are ya?”

“My name is Otaktay Ravenwing. And who are you, ma’am?”

“Aw, my name is Samantha St. James, you can just call me Sam or Sammie for short. Man, I thought you were a ghost, how did you show up like that all them there times? And why did you show up naked?”

“I sleep nude.”

“I reckon you think that means something to me. It doesn’t.”

“What type of magic worker are you?” Otaktay questioned quietly as he walked around her.

“Uh, I’m not. I would say magic isn’t real Mr. Ravenwing, but I done seen you show up in not a stitch of clothing for 2 weeks straight. And my hand passed right through ya, sounds like magic to me.”

“Yes. I thought you were calling me.”

I dunno about you mister, but when I need to call someone, I do it on the phone.”

Otaktay smiled for the first time. She was pleasant and had likeable ways. He wanted to introduce her to his world and convince her to come to London with him to meet John and the rest of the council. He had the feeling she was tied in with all the recent goings-on in the world of the supernatural and magic.


End file.
